


The Email

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sam Winchester Fluff, this is a cute one that I really had fun writing ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: Reader’s closest friend at work was brutally murdered and there is only one person she could turn to, her best friend-Sam. Here’s the twist- she's never seen Sam. For fifteen years now she has been writing and receiving letter/emails from her best friend without knowing much about his life. Does she like him? Perhaps. But what happens when she finds herself falling for this other handsome stranger she's just met?
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 50
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The series is completed and will be updated regularly, at least, once a week. Hope you guys like it :)

You couldn’t get to your phone fast enough.

It had been a brutal day. The sort of day that made you want to crawl into your bed, bury yourself beneath the blankets, howl with misery and just never come out again. Ever. And it was getting worse with every passing second. You could still smell the blood and it was making you faint but what you remembered most distinctly was the look in Ella’s eyes as she lay dead on the lobby floor- it was one of pure terror. Your world had come to a standstill. It couldn’t be, not her.

You had known Ella for only a few weeks now. She had been the new receptionist at the corporate firm where you worked. Her big brown eyes and friendly, inviting smile had made you linger at the reception a little longer while swiping your card. Later, at the weekend office party, you had bumped into her and the two of you had hit it off just like that. She was just as crazy as you the moment she was two drinks down. You had talked all night long about past boyfriends, shared love for chicken enchiladas and classic movies. You had even told her about _him_ , something you almost never did. In that short course of time, you had become the best of friends.

It was painfully ironic that it was you who had found her lifeless body on the lobby floor. It had been mangled and distorted; there was blood everywhere. Your heart stopped, but your mind went into an overdrive as it tried to reject the images that were flooding your brain. If it hadn’t been for Mark, who had held you just in time, you would have collapsed to the ground.

The hours that followed passed in a blur with the police investigation, the talk with the guy from HR and all the hundred questions you didn’t want to answer. You couldn’t comprehend it, you could barely speak. There had been a streak of murders in the area, all victims were young office going brunettes. There was a serial killer on loose.

Mark had dropped you back home probably because you fit the killer’s MO but you had hurried out of his car without a backward glance at him. You had to get inside. You fumbled with the keys, desperately trying to get into the house, to get to your phone which you had forgotten at home that morning.

Even though every fiber, every cell in your body ached to get into the bed and just let go, you knew that if there was something, _someone_ who could help you get through this, it would be _Sam_.

It had all started 15 years back. A high school social ethics teacher had set an assignment for a class to write a letter of encouragement to random fellow school students, to spread goodwill. You weren’t supposed to disclose yourself to the person allotted to you and you hadn’t received yours till the end of the week. Just when you had started to freak out over not getting yours, on the last day, it just tumbled out of your locker- a letter, tucked around two beautiful red roses. How it had gotten inside without the lock being broken, you had no idea. It was a neatly rolled scroll, tied with a leather string, unlike the enveloped letters that were being passed around. 

Beneath an articulately phrased prose that seemed to reference a lot to little things about you, which no one had ever noticed before, was a single sign- Sam. It was followed by an email address in a tiny scrawl- like an afterthought. In spite of being a shy girl back then, you had scourged the entire school for this Sam but he was nowhere to be found. All you got was that he was a tall, scrawny boy who had left school and moved out of town. It had been a bit heart- breaking. Nevertheless, you had gathered courage and emailed him.. and.. he had emailed back.

It had been like that ever since. You could surmise even back then that Sam was a brilliant student. He was smart enough to guide you through academic difficulties so you weren’t surprised when you found out about him being accepted into Stanford. There had a been a time however, few years after, when you hadn’t heard a single word from him for over a year. It had affected you more than you were willing to believe. You had spent many a sleepless nights wondering if he was alright but he had emailed again eventually and that was that. He seemed to be different though. In the sense that he stopped talking about his life, what he did, where he was but even so, he was ever the caring friend.

You gave him his space even though sometimes it was hard. He never told you about his life and you never asked.

Sure there were gaps in the conversations now, ranging from a few weeks to even months at times. You would like to believe it’s because he was busy running some high-end law firm but you couldn’t be sure. However, when you did catch up, you would pour your heart out to him. All the angst over the heart breaks and sick office days and everything in between simply melted away when he consoled you. There were also times when you just knew something was not right with him, that he was hurting and you did your best to talk him out of whatever his pain was.

Sometimes late at night, lying in your bed you wondered what Sam looked like. Maybe he was thin, clean shaven, bespectacled with intense gray eyes and short-cropped hair just like the lawyers you saw at your firm. Other times, you couldn’t help but imagine him as the scrawny boy everyone at school had described. The features of the adult Sam in your head were crisp and sharp but he always had the kindest of smiles.

Even though it was all texting and calling and images these days, you were never tempted to ask him for his number. A part of you was scared of unraveling the enigma that was Sam. Hell, you didn’t even know his last name. What if he was nothing like you had imagined? Worse, what if he was better than how you imagined? It had been hard to not feel jealous when he talked about Jess. Time and time again you had had to beat down hopes of finally getting to meet Sam and tell him you wanted to be more than just friends. No one had ever understood you the way he did. He was kind and humble. He was everything you could have ever asked for… but what if he wasn’t?

There was also the fact that Sam had never shown any inclination to see you or… of wanting more. You didn’t want to mess up what you had with him because you wanted more. So you went through the process of it, dating and seeing men. A few of them where really nice, too, but it always boiled down to the fact that they weren’t _him_. After the initial phase, you would start looking for all the Sam-things in them and it would eventually fizzle out. You were always wary of romantic conversations with Sam, never letting him know that maybe it was different for you than it was for him.

But today you needed him.

The moment you entered the house, you flung your bag , kicked off your heels and rushed to your phone. You waited impatiently while the mail loaded. There was an email waiting from Sam:

_*That’s alright, Y/N. Maybe going out with Mark isn’t such a bad idea. Why don’t you give it a shot? Sure he is your boss but he seems like a nice guy.*_

It was in context to your earlier email, discussing your situation about how your boss was hitting on you.

You promptly hit reply and typed-

_*Sam…_

That was all it took. It was too much and you broke down, your fingers clutching the cell phone tightly. If only you could wrap your arms around him. You craved physical comfort.

A ping from your phone startled you. There was a new message from Sam. You realized you had accidentally hit the send key.

_*Y/N, are you okay? Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.*_

You cried harder.

Just as your fingers grazed the keys to type a reply, the doorbell rang.

You wanted to ignore it, just let it ring. You couldn’t face the world just yet. Except, it could be someone from work. Wiping your eyes as best as you could, you walked up to the door and counted to three before opening it.

Two unusually tall and handsome men in crisp suits stood on the porch. The one standing to the right was easily 6 feet or maybe more. He had piercing green eyes and short cropped hair. The one to the left was even taller, with long silky hair that fell below his jaw-line. He was the first to speak.

“ Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” His voice was firm but soft and comforting at the same time.

“Uh… Y-yeah,” you stuttered. He had the most beautiful eyes that changed color as he spoke in the kindest voice you had heard in a while.

“I’m Agent Tyler and this is my partner Agent Perry. We’re with the FBI. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions about the death of Ella Lance.”


	2. Chapter 2

You did not know what to say. You did not want to go through another round of this. However, you found yourself incapable of speech as you looked into those beautiful hazel eyes.

“Can we come inside?” Agent Tyler asked.

“Uh… yeah,” you said, throat tight from all the unshed tears and led the way to the living room. Both men followed you and took seats on the sofa while you sat on the lone chair that was placed at an angle adjoining it. This way, you were sitting facing the hazel eyes, your legs almost touching his.

“I know this has been a hard day for you but could you please tell us what you saw today at the crime scene, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Y/N please,” you said reflexively.

You had recently changed your last name from your father’s to that of your mother’s maiden name. Your father had never been around and you had decided to ditch his name after all. You weren’t used to the new one yet.

“Okay, Y/N then,” Agent Tyler’s voice softened as he said your name. You noticed his partner giving him a sharp look and then sighing. Did the name mean something to him?

“Tell us what you saw?”

And so you told them. How you and Ella had been the best of friends for a while now. That she was doing the night shift even though it wasn’t her turn only because Mark needed help that day. How you had decided to go early that morning to meet her before she left for home and how you were the one who found her lying lifeless, covered in her own blood.

“Who else was there at that time?” Asked Agent Perry.

“Just Ella, the security and a few others on the upper floor. I wouldn’t have known what to do if Mark hadn’t found me.”

“So Mark was there, too?” The two agents exchanged a glance. Their body language was tuned to one another. In spite of their obvious youth, given their job profile, they seemed to have been working together for quite a while now.

Agent Tyler looked at you, speaking for the first time since you had narrated the story.

“We are very sorry for your loss, Ma'am and we understand it must be difficult for you to lose your friend.”

Looking into his eyes, you couldn’t stop the tears that you had been holding on to. There was something about his kind voice that made you feel homesick and the dam broke.

You turned your face to the other side not wanting them to see as the tears spilled over and you suppressed a sob. You felt a light pressure on your hand as calloused fingers covered your own. Surprised, you turned to see Agent Tyler taking hold of your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Somehow it tugged at your heart. The simple gesture was pure in its own way. There was compassion and empathy in his voice when he spoke, “Y/N, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to find out who did this to your friend.”

And just like that you were comforted. It was weird how you felt absolutely at home with a stranger you had met only minutes ago. That is exactly why you didn’t think twice before enveloping his hand between both of yours.

“Thank you so much, Agent. This means a lot.” A single tear glided down your cheek and fell onto the top of his hand as you looked down.

“Hey, hey it’s going to be fine. _Trust me_.”

His words brought you up short and you quickly removed your hands from over his. That phrase meant something to you. It reminded you of someone else.

“Alright then,” Agent Perry cleared his throat as rose in one fluid movement, his eyes shifting from you to Agent Tyler. There was a confused yet wary look there. “We better be going, Ma'am. Thank you for your time.”

Agent Tyler followed his partner as he stood up, towering over you. He extended his hand towards you, expectant. You took it and he helped you up on your feet.

“Thank you for going through it all again for us. If there’s anything that you need, please give us a call. Here’s my card.” He swiftly handed it to you, his fingers lingering on yours.

“Take care, Y/N” he smiled a little as you drank in his features. His beautiful eyes, chiseled mouth, those soft locks of hair that framed his amazing jawline. You briefly wondered what it would feel like to run your hand along those tresses. The direction of your thoughts caught you off guard. How could you possibly feel this sort of attraction and familiarity towards an outsider?

Slowly, he let go off your hand, almost reluctant. It looked like he wanted to say something more but then thought better of it and turned around to follow his partner out.

You saw them to the door and closed it shut behind them, watching as they walked down the steps.

“What was all that about?” You could hear Perry ask him. Apparently this wasn’t his usual behavior.

“It’s nothing,” you heard Agent Tyler say as he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket.

“I swear you are addicted to that damned thing,” Agent Perry complained “I don’t even understand this thing you have going with that girl!”

 _Girl?_ Your heart sank.

“Shut up,” said Agent Tyler as he got into the passenger’s seat of the Chevy parked at the curb. You watched them drive away, your thoughts a jumble. A ping from your phone, drew you out of your reverie.

You ran to your phone and opened your mail.

 _*Y/N?*_ Sam had written, * _What is it? Please tell me you’re fine. If this is about Mark, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.*_

You wiped your eyes, quickly typing-

 _*Yes I’m okay, Sam_.* You didn’t want to bring up Ella again, you couldn’t handle it, not one more time. But there was something else that was on your mind, someone else…

So you wrote further:

_*It’s not Mark. It’s this other guy I met recently. I don’t know how to put it in words, but there was something about him. He might be into someone else though, I hardly even know him. I just don’t know, Sam.*_

Sam’s reply was quick:

_*Just ask him, Y/N. Go for it if you think it’s good for you. I know it… **Trust me** …*_


	3. Chapter 3

_Ella was smiling at you, coaxing you to meet Sam after all. “Go on, call him,” she was saying. You were blushing furiously while looking down at your hands. All of a sudden there was a blood-curdling scream and you looked around to see Ella’s body lying on the floor, mutilated and mauled. But the thing that was haunting you was the sheer terror in her dead eyes._

Your eyes snapped open, your heart was hammering against your ribs. It took only two seconds for you to realize where you were and the events from yesterday came crashing down on you. The pain was unbearable for a moment and you waited for the tears to come, but they did not. On the contrary, your eyes felt bone dry. You had laid in bed for hours and cried yourself to sleep last night so of course the tears wouldn’t come. And maybe that was well, you decided. Ella loved you and she would hate it if she knew that you were miserable. So no crying, you wouldn’t sully Ella’s memory by moping around all day and precisely doing the thing she disliked the most.

Forcing yourself out of the bed, you laboriously walked into the bathroom. You did a double take when you looked at the mirror- your eyes were puffy from all the crying, the nose was shiny and pretty much your entire face was swollen. But that wasn’t why you stopped in front of the mirror. In a sudden moment of vulnerability you realized how different you looked now. If someone from your high-school saw you now, there was no way they would recognize you. Back then you had been so conscious of the way you looked, you always wore baggy clothes and covered your dyed short-cropped hair with a beanie. You had hidden behind those thick framed glasses and pretended the world’s judgement didn’t exist. It was Sam who had noticed how brilliant your eyes were behind those glasses or that there was a shine to your hair. That first letter of his talked about a girl who was intelligent and quiet but also sarcastic and witty. He had made you fall in love with that girl. Not what she looked like but who she was.

Now you looked nothing like that girl. You had grown out your hair and instead of dying it pitch black, it had retained it’s more nature color and texture. You had ditched those frames for contacts and embraced your body for what it was. You were often the point of attention in a crowd but that was probably the reason for you being single. Most men only saw you for the person that you looked and not the person you were. Sam had been the only one who admired you for your soul. He loved all the little things about you- your love for classics and poetry, your annoying little quirk about always being grammatically correct and your love for food. These were all the things that put a lot of high handed men off, that you had more to your character than just the body. Hardly anyone but Sam had shown the slightest inkling that they saw beyond the looks…but that was until yesterday.

When you walked out of the shower, you felt calmer. It was nearly evening now. You had stayed up late into the night, the misery not letting you find an escape. It was only in the early hours of morning that you had finally drifted into an uneasy sleep and then out for the rest of the day. But now, your stomach was rumbling since you hadn’t eaten anything in more than thirty-six hours.

You switched the TV on as you made your way to the kitchen. The empty house and it’s silence was threatening to engulf you and you needed that distraction. Your cell phone had been silent for most of the night. Sam had comforted you, knowing that you did not want to talk about whatever it was that was haunting you but then suddenly there was silence from him. That seemed to happen a lot with Sam- he would just disappear midway in a conversation and turn up hours later. You had grown to accept that. Maybe he had important commitments, maybe it was family. That thought tore at your heart… Why? Why did he never talk about his life? You knew nothing about him, except that his parents were both dead and he had an elder brother whom he really loved. It broke your heart to even think about the wife and kids he might have.

You fried yourself some eggs and settled on to the couch, eating directly out of the pan, barely paying attention to the TV. Today, your thoughts weren’t directed towards Sam. Somehow the tall, hazel eyed Agent kept invading your mind. Agent Samuel Tyler. You had read his card so many times that it was all crumpled now and the edges had dog ears. You had everything on it learnt by-heart, the name, number, division and even the head office address at the bottom in tiny print. Late at night, you had even considered calling him. Within the frame of your short interaction, he had comforted you in a way that made you feel right at home. But you don’t go calling strangers at three in the night, so you didn’t. That didn’t mean that you weren’t aching to hear his voice again.

Suddenly the words on the TV caught your attention:

 _“…Vicious killer on loose, another victim found murdered in the ditch near Manson creek… the body was mauled and…”_ you zoned out as the pan dropped from your hands and clattered on to the floor.

You were seeing red. This bastard, who had taken Ella from you was still out there killing more people. He was tainting the air by even breathing in it. He deserved to die. You paid attention to the report on the news.

There had been seven victims so far, four in the last month and three in this week. All were young, working women and from the same area- The IT Park where you worked. Two of those victims including Ella were known to you. The other girl’s name was Marianne and worked in the same building as you. You waved at each other all the time. Her body had been found in a drain two blocks away, last month. It had been horrifying. You and Ella had been to her funeral together. Police had initially chalked it up to an animal attack, there were evident teeth marks on the remains. However, as the case proceeded, victims were found in parking lots, residential apartments and building lobbies. Animals don’t stalk cities. This was the work of a psycho killer.

Needless to say anyone who fit the killer’s MO was asked to be careful and on high alert. The HR never let you go home alone anymore, however Mark had taken up that responsibility on himself.

A weird scratching noise caught your attention. It was coming from outside your window. At first you ignored it but then the sound only got louder. You stealthily picked up the Pan from the floor and slowly walked towards the window, your senses on hyper alert. At first you couldn’t see anyone but then you saw it, a figure crouching underneath the huge fir tree in your backyard. Your heart stopped as you turned back from the window. _Shit! It was the killer!_ You looked again and he was gone

Slowly, you backed away from the edge of the window, trying not to draw attention to the fact that you had seen him. The moment you were out of sight from the window range, you ran to the phone and punched the number that was now imprinted in your brain.

The phone rang … once… twice… thrice…

 _Come on, come on pick up!_ you prayed.

Just when you thought it would go off, he picked.

“Hello?” Answered his smooth voice.

“Agent!” You nearly yelled “This is Y/N. There’s someone outside my house and I think it’s the killer. He was there and then he wasn’t.”

“Shit!” the Agent cursed. “Alright. Y/N, listen. We’re on our way now. Whatever you do, do not open your door for anyone. Stay inside till we find you. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes,” your voice shook.

“Y/N?” He said once more. “We’ll take care of this. You’ll be safe, _trust me_.” The phone clicked.

Your hands shook as you first bolted every door and window of your house. After that, you closed all the curtains and shut yourself in the living room, the sound of the TV your only diversion. But it wasn’t enough. They were the longest fifteen minutes of your life as you waited with baited breath for the bell to ring.

The moment the door bell chimed, you ripped yourself off of the sofa and ran towards the door, opening the deadbolt at once. Half way into the act you realized that in the hurry to get to the Agent, you hadn’t even looked to confirm from the peep hole. Your stomach turned to lead as the door remained half open. The person on the other side pushed it further to reveal himself.

It was only Mark.

“Oh thank God it’s you!” You sagged with relief.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Mark raised his eyebrows.

“Yes… No,” you shook your head, you needed a drink. “C'mon in.”

“You look terrible,” Mark commented as he made himself comfortable on the chair.

You sighed.

“Yes, I know. I couldn’t really sleep last night.” You turned towards the kitchen “I’m going to get myself a drink. You want one?”

No answer. You continued to the kitchen anyway and settled on a beer. You had no intentions of getting drunk anywhere near Mark. He was your boss and he was nice to you but sometimes you could never be certain about him. Then there was also the fact that he made a pass at you several times and you had refused him. But you were still glad you had company when that killer was on lose. Mark would have to do until the Agents came over,

“Would you like a beer?” You called out again. No answer.

 _Fine be that way!_ You pulled out a beer for him anyways.

“ Hey Mark…” you started to say, as you walked into the living room.

His chair was empty. Mark wasn’t there. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere. A cold chill went up your spine. That’s when you heard the growling. You turned back to see Mark crouching on the floor, only he wasn’t Mark. His eyes were feline and yellow not his usual brown. Sharp teeth sprouted out of his mouth as he snapped at you. He looked like a predator, poised to attack a prey, expression murderous as he glared up at you.

“M-Mark..”

The creature jumped on you, his teeth aiming for your jugular.


	4. Chapter 4

The only image your mind could conjure up was the terrified look in Ella’s blood-flecked eyes before the monster lunged at you. That was it, you were going to die. You shut your eyes tight, your arms instinctively riding up to protect your face.

*BANG*

The loud noise shook you up but you didn’t dare open your eyes. Your first thought was that maybe the monster had missed and landed across you. That would have bought you time to run but your legs were shaking so violently that you could hardly move. There was a whizzing sound followed by a lot of scuffling.

“Dean!”

You knew that voice, it was the voice you had been yearning to hear. It was him!

You opened your eyes just in time to see the monster crashing straight into the window and disappearing into the night.

“Son of a bitch!” Agent Perry muttered under his breath as he followed that thing out of the broken window.

Your brain couldn’t process what had just happened. It had all been so fast that your mind was in denial, fear was still coursing through your veins. In the next moment, your legs gave out. This was just too much for your body. You would have crashed on to the floor if it weren’t for the strong set of hands that caught hold of you just in time.

“Hey, hey Y/N. It’s okay, you’re fine now,” Agent Tyler guided you to the chair.

“W-what was that?” You managed to whisper. You still couldn’t wrap your head around what had just occurred.

“A werewolf.” He handed you the bottle of water from the table. “Here, drink this”

You drank from the bottle in a daze, realizing only after you were done drinking, how parched your throat was.

“A werewolf.” You said slowly, weighing the word as you said it. “A WEREWOLF?”

“Ah… yeah.” His voice was apologetic.

“So Mark is the one who killed Ella? He is the one who has been killing all those women?”

“Yes, we had been suspecting him for a while now. The location, the MO, and the lunar cycle everything fits the pattern.” He sighed “We should have been more careful.”

“You aren’t really an FBI Agent, are you?” You narrowed your eyes.

His smile was rueful, “No. I’m not. Me and my brother, this is what we do. We hunt monsters and save people.”

There was something off about his tone, it was placating. He was expecting you to judge him, to be weirded out by what he does. He was expecting you to be afraid of him. You realized this was because of how people usually treated him. They took in his huge form, all the guns, saw him fighting monsters and that scared them witless. But that was not how you saw him. As you looked into his eyes, all you could see was compassion and kindness. You would have been chopped liver on the floor right now if it weren’t for him and his brother. They had saved your life. If there was anything you felt towards him, it was immense gratitude and… something more, too. Your stomach was in knots as you sat there and it had nothing to do with the fact that you had been just attacked by a mythical monster. Rather it had everything to do with this man crouching before you, hoping that you would understand and not be afraid him of.

“Thank you…” you managed, “Thank you for saving me.. Ag-… Samuel”

“It’s Sam.” His response was reflexive, like he had corrected people several times. “I mean, call me just- Sam. No one calls me by that name.”

You stared. Was the universe playing some sort of cosmic joke on you? Sam? SAM?? really! What were the freaking odds that this Greek god of a person, someone who had finally managed to touch your heart in a way that only _Sam_ had was also a Sam? You looked up at the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention. Maybe a deity laughing his ass off at the deliberate turn of proceedings or a drunk guardian angel making a joke out of your life. Well hey, after tonight’s events, for all you knew maybe angels were real, too. Before you could speak, the door sprung open, making you jump.

“Dammit! He escaped.” It was Sam’s brother. What had he called him? Yes… Dean.

Left side of Dean’s jacket was ripped to shreds and his arm was bleeding profusely. There were a few scratches on his face and palms. He was hurt because he was trying to save you. Dean looked extremely pissed.

“Shit!” muttered Sam under his breath. “What now?”

“The usual drill. One of us stays here, in case he decided to show up again and the other one stakes out in front of his apartment.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.” Sam turned to you. “Y/N, Mark knows that you know he is the one killing all the women, he will definitely come back for you. One of us should stay here with you, just in case.”

You nodded. You’d probably die of anxiety, if you were left alone.

Dean turned towards you, “Hey would you mind grabbing me a wet towel? I gotta stop this bleeding.”

“Yes, of course!” you jumped out of the chair and hurried towards the laundry. It was the least you could do. You grabbed a fresh towel from the hamper and quickly made your way towards them. When you were about to enter into the living room, their voices stopped you mid-track.

“No, you go.” Sam was hissing.

“Forget it, Sammy, I’m staying with the girl, you go after Monster Mark.” Dean sounded smug.

“Hey, you stayed with the girl last time and before that… wait, before that, too. It’s my turn.”

You had to bite your lip to stop the giggle from escaping. They were having the most typical sibling conversation smack in the middle of this horror story. Boys! It was kind of flattering that they were arguing over who gets to stay, but you knew whom you preferred.

“You already have a thing going on with that chick!” But Dean’s voice sounded defeated.

“You know it’s not like that Dean,” Sam sighed.

You held your breath… there was that girl again… But it wasn’t like that… You wanted to know more.

“Yeah right, whatever. Fine, I’ll go” Dean gave in, then chuckled “It’s not like you will get laid or anything, the awkward reborn virgin that you are, Sammy.”

You blushed deep red and you couldn’t help your sharp intake of breath.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam said. “Shh… I think I can hear her coming"

Dean chuckled again.

You took a deep breath and stepped out into the living room, praying that the blush had subsided.

Dean looked at you and smirked once at Sam. You were really starting to like this guy and his unapologetic attitude.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’d better be going.” He wrapped the towel around his arm and walked towards the door.

“Be careful.” The words slid out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Dean turned to look at you, a surprised smile playing across his lips. “Yes I will, Y/N.” Didn’t anybody ever tell him that? Why was he looking so surprised?

“You don’t worry at all. Sam knows what to do, he won’t let anything harm you.” Dean turned back to Sam and smirked all of a sudden. “Take care, Sammy.” He winked and smiled roguishly. Sam gave him- what can only be described as- a bitch face. Dean chuckled once and walked out of the door, pulling it shut behind him.

Both of you listened as the Impala rumbled to a start and cruised off on to the road. Now it was only the two of you. Your heart was racing for all the right reasons while Sam was avoiding your eyes. If there was one thing you perfectly understood, it was sexual tension. What was going on between you and Sam was dangerously close to that.

“Do you want a drink or something?” you asked breaking the silence.

He looked like he was going to decline but changed his mind at the last moment. “Yes, I’d love that.”

You retrieved the earlier beer bottles that had miraculously survived the attack.

“Please allow me,” Sam took the bottles from you and opened them.

That made you roll your eyes. And here you thought chivalry was dead.

“What?” Sam asked. You shook your head.

“Tell me one thing, Sam? Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Fight monsters, save people? What’s in it for you?”

“You mean we should just let people die?” Sam scoffed lightly.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you quickly clarified. “I am just trying to understand what drives you to help people. You don’t get appreciated or recognized and you obviously don’t get paid. Both you and Dean don’t have families of your own, I can see that and putting yourself in line of death for strangers… it’s a great sacrifice to make and you get nothing in return. I just don’t understand…” you babbled on.

Sam however was quiet, staring into the distance.

“I am sorry, I know it’s a stupid question…”

“No, no Y/N. I’m just wondering how to answer it, I can see what you mean. Dean and I, well we have been doing this as long as I can remember. We were raised into this. I have tried to run away from this life more than once and heaven knows I have messed up… literally,” he laughed once mirthlessly.

“But this is the only way I know,” he continued, his eyes glowed with passion. “Helping people, I sleep better at night knowing that someone out there is alive because of what me and my brother do. You know what I mean?” He looked deep into your eyes. You forgot how to breathe.

“You are a good person, Sam. Both of you. You deserve better,” you said.

“We think the world deserves better. This way we are making a difference,” Sam said.

The way he looked at you, you could have kissed him then and there and you were sure he wanted that, too, but something was holding you back, your lanky best friend Sam, even the thought of him triggered an ancient pain in your heart. You wanted to move on, you wanted to take that one step, grab this Sam sitting in front of you and kiss his beautifully chiseled mouth. You hadn’t set eyes on a person as amazing as the man sitting right there in front of you- inside and out. But you just couldn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to any of you. Tears pooled in your eyes and you looked down.

“Hey, Y/N? What is it? Is it something I said?” Sam sounded positively alarmed.

“No. It’s just my life is a mess right now. I miss Ella so damn much. I loved her and now I have to go to her funeral alone. Nothing is making sense and I just don’t know Sa..m…” your voice broke on his name and you cried harder.

You felt the mattress shift as Sam moved closer to you on the sofa, one hand on your shoulder and the other rubbing soothing circles into your back. You looked up, your tear-stained blue eyes into his worried hazel and he nudged you a little, asking for permission, offering his arms to comfort you. This time, after hours of craving for this very reassurance, you gave in.

He pulled you into his sculpted chest, his arms going around you. You could feel the heat from his body, hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, feel every muscle of his taut body. He smelled like coffee, fabric, body wash and sunlight. Your body relaxed of its own accord and you melted into his arms. You knew that you were probably giving him all the wrong signals, but right then you just couldn’t bring yourself to care enough. He comforted you wordlessly, knowing that nothing he said could heal you from the loss of a loved one. His fingers combed through your hair, soothingly. You hadn’t felt this comfortable even in your own body, but this stranger was making you feel right at home.

“Sam?” You asked quietly

“Yeah?” He answered, you could feel his throat rumbling at the top of your head.

“Have you ever loved someone you can never have?”

He didn’t answer at first.

“I have,” he finally said and his voice sounded so forlorn and that you reached around him and hugged him tighter, comforting the man who was comforting you.

He sighed.

“Y/N?”

“Mhmm?”

“If you don’t mind? I…” He hesitated, “I mean if you don’t want to go alone, I can accompany you to Ella’s funeral.”

You pulled back, looking him in the eye, “You would?”

“Of course, if that’s okay with you…” he sounded so unsure of himself that it tugged at your heart.

“I’d like that, Sam” you managed to say, your throat thick with emotions.

“It’s settled then,” Sam smiled. He looked beautiful, his cheeks dimpled as his lips curved upwards. He took your breath away.

The cold draft from the broken window seemed to sting even more now that you weren’t embracing Sam and you shivered. He noticed. Immediately, he was on his feet.

“Where are the blankets?”

“Up in my bedroom, second door to the left. I’ll go get them.”

“I’ll do it.” Sam was bounding up the stairs in no time.

You sighed, you’d rather he took you back in his arms than get the blankets. But there was a limit to pushing your luck for one night and you didn’t want to hurt Sam. You picked up the phone and checked your Email. Nothing from your Sam there. That wasn’t like him. He knew you were upset and he still hadn’t emailed? Was he alright?

You quickly typed:

_*Sam! Are you Okay? Reply when you see this.*_

*send*

There was a ping! You looked around to see a phone on the other end of the sofa vibrate. That was Sam’s phone.

Your breathing hitched as the gears in your brain went into an over-drive. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your phone again and typed another email, your fingers fumbling erratically on the keypad.

_*Sam! Where the fuck are you?*_

You were biting your lip so hard now that you could taste blood. This couldn’t be… it was not possible.

*send*

*Ping!*

Furious tears rolled down your eyes as you jumped out of your side of the sofa and grabbed Sam’s phone, sliding it open.

The bright screen displayed a single line-

_*2 E-mails from Y/N*_

Your hands flew to your mouth as you shut down the scream that built up in your throat. Tears flowed unbounded from your eyes, tears of disbelief, tears of wonder and tears of joy! You had waited 15 years for this very day, spent countless sleepless nights dreaming about what your Sam looked like and now he was finally here, you could touch him and he was better than anything your mind could have conjured up. He was your dream come true.

You heard footsteps coming down as you sat there silently crying, possibly living the most wonderful moment of your life. Finally!

“Hey, I’m sorry it took me long, I got caught up with the collection of your books. You’re a classics fan?” Sam was looking at a book he was balancing on top of the blanket, he wasn’t paying attention to you. You? You were drinking in everything about him, those eyes, lips, voice, everything… your heart was bursting at its seams.

“You know what?” He was still looking down, “You remind me of my best friend, she too likes…”

Suddenly your eyes adjusted to the darkness behind him in the foyer where a dark form was lurking… It clicked only two seconds before it happened…

“Sam!” You let out a blood curdling scream and the werewolf leapt on Sam, knocking him to the floor. Afterwards, the only thing you remembered seeing was the look of terror in his eyes- Not for his life, but for yours- and the blood that was slowly seeping away from him as he closed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

*BANG* *BANG*

Two successive gunshots blared from behind, as a tall figure ran past you. You could see what was happening, understand it even, but for the life you, couldn’t make sense out of it. It was as if you were standing in one frame of reality and the scene unfolding before you was from another. As you watched Dean run from behind you, gun blazing, a sick sense of Déjà vu settled over you.

The events of the evening were repeating themselves in sickly familiar order as Dean crouched next to his brother. Those actions from only a few hours ago seemed years old as you stood there watching Dean slap his brother’s cheek, trying to wake him. The rounds aimed at the werewolf’s heart had found their target on point and he had toppled over, crashing into the cupboard and falling into a heap on the ground, his yellow- ocher eyes deadly even in death.

“Sam, Sammy!” Dean was yelling. He shook Sam by his shoulders “Wake up.”

Sam did not wake, his head rolled to one side, hair soaked with blood.

“Y/N, get some water!”

You did not move, you could not move.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted again, “Hurry! Get some water.”

That shook you up. Your mind felt oddly disconnected from your body as you ran to the kitchen to get some water. The best day of your life-your dream -had suddenly turned into your worst nightmare right in front of your eyes. You grabbed the bottle and rushed to Dean’s side. There, you found him mopping up Sam’s head with the table cloth, trying to figure out the worst of his wounds. Sam had a long gash running across his neck and chest which was bleeding profusely. There were claw marks on his arm and he had hit his head. His locks were drenched in blood that was dripping from his shoulder.

Dean splashed the water on Sam’s face. For a split second nothing happened, but then with a huge gasp Sam’s eyes fluttered open.

"Y/N?” he huffed.

“She’s right here, she is fine.” Dean said, “Thank god you’re okay.” Dean flopped on the floor, relief evident in his voice.

Sam’s eyes searched around until they found yours, the pain in them quickly melting into relief. But then he suddenly groaned, squeezing his eyes shut slumped back into unconsciousness.

“Oh no, no!” You crashed on the floor next to him, tears finally making their belated appearance.

“He’s okay,” Dean said, “Just knocked out. Come on, help me with him.”

Both of you lifted Sam by the shoulders and hefted him on to the sofa whereby Dean promptly ripped off what was left of his jacket, shirt and undershirt to reveal the inch deep wound. The cloth had helped stop a lot of the blood flow but it was still bad.

“Y/N?” Dean looked at you, his eyes beseeching, begging for you to understand. “I can’t take him to the hospital, I am sure you can understand why but I need to patch him up or this will get messy. I need your help with this, can you do that?”

You nodded mutely.

“Alright, here’s what I need." 

He explained to you what to do and both of you set to work quickly. You dashed off to the bathroom to get a bucket full of warm water and Dean rushed outside to get his things. On your way back to the living room, you grabbed a bottle of whiskey and found Dean kneeling over Sam’s shoulder. He quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with a quarter and a hot knife. You couldn’t look at it but you couldn’t look away either. Instead, you let your eyes wander over Sam’s naked torso, taking in every inch of him. He was nothing like you imagined. He wasn’t the sophisticated, public man you though he would be. Sure you knew he was loving and gentle, every bit a man worth respecting. But the person lying unconscious in front of you was a savior, he was worth much, much more.

Dean sewed up the wound in a very brutal fashion but the technique was effective, the bleeding stopped. Dean’s hands weren’t even shaking and merely thinking about the number of times Dean had had to patch up his brother this way made you want to hurl.

You slowly sat down on the floor next to sofa, your shoulder touching the side of Sam’s waist. This way Dean was blocking most of the wound. You could however see Sam’s face. For such a hefty build, Sam looked remarkably like a child in his sleep, heartbreakingly innocent and vulnerable. It made you want to smile and cry at the same time. You wrapped one arm around your crossed knees, hugging them closer to your chest as you leaned against Sam’s side curling into a ball. Your other hand hesitantly curled around Sam’s, fingers grazing his palm. His hand was calloused beyond his age, like a man who had labored for years.

"Why is he not a lawyer?” The question tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“What?” Dean asked. He was cleaning his hands, having finished sewing up the wound.

“Why is he not a lawyer, Dean?” You realized that you were angry. “He is smart, he is hard working and he had a full-ride to Stanford, so why is he not a lawyer? Why is he hauling ass all over the place, putting himself in danger instead of living a white picket fence, apple-pie life?” You were nearly yelling by this point.

Dean looked a bit shocked, he wasn’t used to being questioned, you guessed. “Why…? How do you…” he was at a loss for words.

“I am the Y/N he has been E-mailing to for the past fifteen years.” you said impatiently, wanting your answers.

If Dean had looked shocked a while ago, it was nothing compared to what he looked now. He was staggered.

“You’re the E-mail girl? How in the name of…” he trailed off, completely speechless.

His silence was agitating you.

“Tell me, Dean, what could have possibly happened to him that completely shattered his dream?”

Dean still looked baffled. “He had to leave Stanford.”

“Why?”

“Because of what happened to Jess.”

“What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story, Y/N, and you look like you are about to go into a shock.”

“I’m fine. Tell me.” You challenged.

“No, Y/N…” Dean started

“Don’t screw with me, Dean, I have been in love with this man for half my life now. I damn well deserve to know why the _fuck_ is he lying bloody and unconscious right now!”

Dean looked hard at you for a moment. Something about your face convinced him and he sighed.

“Fine. It all started when Sam was six months old.”

You stared in mute horror as Dean told you about how a demon had visited Sam’s nursery when he was only six months old and infused him with demon blood. The demon had killed their mom by setting her on fire on their ceiling. Their house had burned down and their father, John, hell-bent on revenge had raised them both into this life. John had trained them to be soldiers and not really his sons, hauling them from one place to another, changing schools and lives. Sam had never wanted any of it, he had always wanted to study, chase his dreams. Sam had always wanted an out from the life. That was why Sam had bolted on the first opportunity to Stanford where he’d met Jessica.

At this point your heart was breaking for Sam and Dean, too. You knew all about Jess. Sam never used to shut up about her then, until he stopped talking about her all of a sudden. You had always assumed a terrible break-up. But when Dean told you that she had died exactly the way their mom had, your hand flew to your mouth. And that wasn’t all, Dean was on a roll now. He told you about the demon Azazel’s plans to use Sam for his purposes and how Sam had fought him. How he had taken on Lucifer himself to save the world and died in the process.

You were so stunned by this point that when Dean told you about how he brought Sam back to life, you believed him. You gathered both of Dean’s hands in your own and you kissed them, you didn’t know how to express your gratitude.

“Thank you, thank you for bringing him back.” That was all you could manage before your throat gave up and tears, hot and heavy fell on to your jumbled hands. “Just thank you.”

Dean’s eyes softened. “Hey, hey, Y/N don’t cry. Sam is strong. He’s been through stuff that is so horrific, it’s beyond imagination. He has sacrificed himself on more than one occasion and always beat the odds to be victorious. A werewolf scratch is not going to harm him. He will be up and about in a minute. He is Sam fucking Winchester.”

You looked up at Dean, his eyes were glowing with pride for his brother. And you couldn’t have been prouder yourself. Sam was a hero! All that time you were crying about petty heartbreaks, he had been saving the god forsaken world and even then he had always managed to cheer you up. Your problems had been important for him even then.

“I was so stupid!” You muttered “All this while, worrying him with my stupid self-centered life.”

Dean shook his head. “No. In fact, you were the one who tethered him to normalcy. You were the one who made him smile even in the shittiest of messes. You were his escape.”

“Thank you.” Was all you could say.

Dean smirked then, attempting to lighten the mood, “Well one good thing came out this whole mess, at least, I got to meet Sam’s E-girlfriend.”

You scoffed. “I don’t think he likes me that way. I don’t think he ever has. Why did he never want to meet me then? Why else would he hide the person that he is from me?”

“I think you are wrong, Y/N. I think he has been his truest with you. All these years, all the women he’s been with, he was never really there. Ever thought that maybe he loved you too much to drag your life into this mess?”

You said nothing, allowing yourself to believe what your heart had been trying to tell you for all these years. Sam truly did love you.

“I’d be willing to bet that he loves you more than he lets on, kiddo. I’d at least win that bet.”

You were confused. “What?”

“Oh, I used to tell him the account he is chatting up with is a middle-aged man playing him, but he was sure you were this hot brunet. Guess he won that one, huh?” Dean winked as he got up to clear up the bloody mess of clothes around you.

It made you giggle in spite of yourself.

* * *

You were right next to him when Sam finally woke. Dean had knocked himself out in the back seat of the Impala in the early hours of dawn after getting rid of the Werewolf’s body. You had offered your bed but he had vehemently denied saying he preferred his Baby to silk sheets any day. Then, he had winked and elaborated that he’d rather not be in the same place as you and Sam when he woke up. That had made you blush.

You had been nodding off against Sam’s arm, your head resting against his biceps.

“Y/N?” His voice brought you back from your stupor.

“Sam! Oh thank God you’re up,” you whispered against his arm, your voice hoarse.

Sam winced slightly, assessing the wound. “What happened?”

You narrated the whole incidence, as Sam slowly sat upright, your voice threatening to betray you.

“I had to go and knock myself out, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam sighed. “You could have been hurt or worse if Dean hadn’t turned up on time.”

You stared. This man was apologizing for not saving you when he had nearly died trying. You couldn’t have possibly fallen for a better man. You looked down to your hand, a yellowing piece of parchment was wrapped in your fingers. Its edges were frayed and the paper was fragile, as if it had been read over and over, many a times.

You took a deep breath that shook your entire frame.

“What is it?”

You looked Sam straight in his beautiful multi-colored eyes. It was now or never. You plucked up all the courage and thrust the piece of paper into Sam’s unhurt hand.

He was bewildered. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” you said, your eyes starting to fill up.

Sam opened the parchment and slowly held it up. You watched with baited breath as he read, his confused eyes widening with every word that he took in. Suddenly, he gasped.

“Y/N?” he looked up that you as if he was seeing you for the very first time. That was your cue as the tears started flowing unbounded.

 _This is so stupid!_ You thought. _He is here finally and he knows and I am crying like an idiot._

Sam was still looking at you like he was seeing a miracle, his eyes wondrous.

Of all the times you had imagined meeting Sam, of all the thousand scenarios you had ever dreamt of you had never imagined this. This was stranger than all of those put together. There were no flowers, no big restaurants with chaperones, no red dresses and tuxedos. You were dressed in pink pajama shorts and he was shirt-less, covered in blood. But as you looked into his awed eyes, you knew that this moment couldn’t have been more perfect. The realization hit you hard and a sob ripped through your chest. Sam was right here in front of you and you were crying pathetically.

“I’m s-sorry, I’m crying…” you blubbered. “ I just… I-I…

In a fraction of a second, Sam slid down the sofa, coming to kneel next to you and crushed his lips to yours, drowning the rest of your apology. He was pouring fifteen years worth of angst, desperation and wait into the kiss, he was worshiping you. When you broke apart, his own eyes were glistening tears.

"It’s you,” he said holding up the battered piece of paper, with his handwriting on it. It was that first letter, a reluctant assignment by a bored teacher in a generic high school class. It was that scroll, the same one that the scrawny teenage Sam had stowed into a wallflower Y/N’s locker. The one that had started it all.

“Yes,” was all you could manage to say.

“God! You’re perfect.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, tears gliding down his face. There wasn’t anything more to say. Words weren’t enough. What could you possibly say to one another after being in hopeless love for more than a decade… Except-

“I love you.” The words rushed out of your mouth.

Sam chuckled and pulled you into his chest with one arm. “I love you, too, Y/N. All these years I have been yearning to meet you, living one day at a time, trying to curb the soul-consuming temptation. I have never wanted someone more, _trust me_!”

This time _you_ pulled him towards you, capturing his lips within yours. Your fingers knotted in his messy hair. He tasted divine.

“Don’t leave me now, please…” you murmured against his lips.

Sam was quiet. You could see the battle raging in his eyes.

“This life… you don’t know what I have done…” he started.

"I know,” you cut him off. “Dean told me everything.”

“Even then?” Sam’s expression was pained. He was expecting a rebuff, he was expecting to be rejected and it broke your heart.

“Especially then! Don’t you see it, Sam?” You exclaimed, “You’re a hero and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You are much more than the man I thought you were. I don’t think I could have chosen a better man. Hell, I don’t even know if there is a better man. I know about the bunker, it’s an hour’s drive from here, I’ll move, it doesn’t matter. Please?”

You bent forward, embracing the uninjured part of Sam, breathing him in. His entire body seemed to relax at your touch.

“Yes… God, yes!” He finally breathed, kissing the top of your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You got that backwards, Winchester.” you smiled against his chest.

Sam laughed and the sound of it warmed your heart.

“So you’ll move, huh? Set a date yet?” His eyes were glowing with elation.

Your own heart seemed to grow double its size but you somehow managed to smirk and raise your eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know, Why don’t you Email me and we will fix an appointment for that,” you said as you pressed your lips to his.

**Author's Note:**

> Please please let me know what you guys think of this story? It'll mean a lot to me <3


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